Folks Are Singing Far And Wide
by Arwen Eledel
Summary: In which a Bad Day turns into a Good Day in the time it takes Eugene to crash into someone. (Eugeunzel modern one-shot)


**A/N: This is a little something I wrote in two hours because I was inspired by a concert I took part in. Fair warning, it's... pretty odd, I don't know where it came from or if it has some point it makes, but it sounded nice enough so I decided to share it.  
Reviews and constructive criticism are highly appreciated. Have fun!**

 **Disclaimer: I only own the plot :)**

* * *

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!"

Eugene couldn't have had a worse day. He'd woken up late – to find the kitchen's ceiling leaking for the umpteenth time – then he'd fallen down the stairs on his way out, had gotten into the most horrific traffic jam while trying to exit the city and _then_ – after five hours of agonizingly slow driving – his car had broken down.

Which, of course, _of bloody course_ , left him in some God-forsaken town in the middle of nowhere.

Oh, and it looked like it would start raining any minute now. _Perfect_.

"Sorry, pal, can't get it fixed today," the mechanic told him as he locked up his service-station. "I'm waiting on some parts tomorrow, come by then."

"And what am I supposed to do until tomorrow?!"

"Wander around the town, have fun, just as the fancy takes you. Who knows, you might like it here."

Sure. Like _that_ was going to happen. But he had to find someplace to sleep – so, into the town it was.

And oh, what a town – one big street, straight as a straw and home to the few shops, banks, restaurants and administrative buildings there were, and a few dozens muddy paths that weaved between tiny, tiny houses. _Jeez_ , it was as if he'd stepped in a cowboy movie, minus the desert. The main street ended in a park, empty and windy, which ran along the bank of a great, great river, shrouded in even greater and greyer fog. And it was cold and damp, and depressing – truly a _wonderful_ place.

He was just wondering where to find a shop to buy himself coffee – or something harder – when he crashed into someone, sending them both sprawling on the ground and straight into a pool of mud.

Would you look at that, his day just got worse.

No, correction – his day didn't actually get worse, because the someone turned out to be a young brunette girl, who – instead of yelling his head off – burst out laughing.

"Well, there go my eggs! Da will have to settle for porridge for breakfast."

"Um, sorry?" Eugene offered, thrown off by her giddy smile (and her eyes – man, her eyes! The greenest of greens he'd ever seen!).

"Oh, it's nothing," she waved him off, "someone else wanted them."

What the hell did that mean?!

"You know, someone dead? When you drop food it's said that someone dead was craving it." She looked at him bemused, the golden specks in her eyes dancing. "Haven't you heard this before?"

"No? I mean, where- why would I-"

"Such a shame!" she cried. "What's this place you come from that hasn't even this little of folk lore?" Then she took in his (previously) crisp white shirt, his green vest and his clean-cut hair and understanding settled in her gaze. "The capital then?"

"Yeah." He didn't know why the admission made him self-conscious – he usually took pride in the life he'd built for himself in the big city. "Uh, if I may, why's the big deal about the folk lore and not about, I don't know, your ruined groceries?"

"Oh, groceries come and go. But your life would be so empty without traditions, without other people that celebrate the same holidays, follow the same customs and sing the same songs as you – wouldn't it?"

"I – I suppose… I don't know, I've never been a part of a folk celebration of any kind, I wouldn't have anything to compare with."

Her eyes shone brighter and Eugene had to focus really heard to make sense of her words. "Would you like to be? A part of a celebration."

He blinked and suddenly it was as if the crappy day had never been, and it wasn't at all hard to smile back at her. "I mean, I don't have anything better to do so if you're offering…"

"Oh, I am," she laughed as she got back on her feet and pulled him up. "Let me just bring those home. Do you have anywhere to sleep?" Eugene shook his head. "Come on then, we've a guest room for a reason. Ma would be delighted to have a foreigner home for dinner!" And her smile was warm and soft, like the light of a candle, and he felt something blossom within his chest, like a seed, like a drop of sunlight.

"I'm… Eugene, by the way."

"Rapunzel, it's great to meet you!"

And so his life began in earnest.

* * *

Eugene didn't think he'd ever laughed as much as during that dinner with Rapunzel and her family. They, Carl and Greta and her, were quite possibly the best people he'd ever encountered – because their home was small, but warm and colourful and _alive_ in ways he'd never even thought to imagine. Painted vines and flowers and sunrays were swirling on the walls, hand-woven carpets covered the wooden floor and a great tile-stove was booming and cracking; every plate was a different colour, a different pattern, and he didn't think he'd ever quite enjoyed pumpkin as much. And there was always so much more – another dish he'd never tasted, another song or story or proverb he hadn't heard of.

"What is today? What are you celebrating?" he asked, gratefully taking a piece of the (apparently) ritual bread Greta offered him.

"It's the day of a holy man, of a defender," Carl said with a smile, "but more than that it's the beginning of winter. We're celebrating the end of an era, the rebirth, the promise of summer and all that it will bring."

Eugene didn't know what to say to that; and the drop of sunlight in his chest grew and grew, and was ready to bloom.

* * *

"Thank you for this," he said softly as he helped Rapunzel wash the dishes. "I've never had – a family, much less traditions to be a part of."

She smiled at him, warm and golden in the cosy kitchen. "I'm glad you bumped in me then, if I could give you this little thing."

He laughed in surprise. "It's not little, how could-"

"Okay," she conceded grinning, "maybe it's not. And it's not over, either. Come with me to the town hall?"

Eugene didn't even think to refuse.

* * *

Night had fallen, and outside was cold and dreary and foggy – but inside the town hall was warm and bright, and he was stunned to see a feast and an orchestra, and a great ring dance in the very middle.

"What is this?" he asked, eyes wide in wonder.

"A family," Rapunzel smiled gently. "Family is bigger than you realise. Come on!" And she dragged him towards the laughter and music, and they locked the cold outside.

And as Eugene watched the dancers in the ring, all dressed in the same black tunics embroidered with golden threads as the one Rapunzel had put on before leaving her home, as he watched them jump and turn and side-step, and move as one to the lively music, he wondered how it was that these people felt so close when he'd just met them. His fingers ghosted over the golden threads in his own sleeves – those of the black shirt Carl had given him in place of his ruined white button-down – and he wondered if maybe it was that easy to fit in.

Then suddenly Rapunzel was there, shining in her black peasant dress, and she held out her hand. "Come join the ring."

He laughed. "No, no, I don't dance. I can't."

The golden specks in her eyes were already dancing. "We'll teach you then!" And she grabbed his hand and dragged him off.

Somehow, he found he didn't mind to be dragged off among the dancers, among their jumping plaits and jumping feet and hearty laughs; he felt at home there, lost in the celebration of a holiday he hadn't heard of, in the heart of a town whose name he'd never known. And it was strange, to be a foreigner to something that equalled life itself to these people; Eugene didn't think he minded that either. So he let himself be taught the steps and the songs and the stories, and he let himself get lost in Rapunzel's eyes, and the drop of sunlight in his chest bloomed with all the beauty of a midsummer sunrise.

And so his life began in earnest, and his heart sang forevermore.


End file.
